


The Trajectory of Grieving Stars

by lovelyannalee



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Astronauts, Based on a Fall Out Boy Song, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, alternate universe - astronauts, idk i'm the worst at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyannalee/pseuds/lovelyannalee
Summary: Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Obito always dreamt of touching the stars and floating among the constellations, the one place they might belong.  If Kakashi knew what was going to happen, he would've changed everything--but he didn't know, so he changed nothing.





	The Trajectory of Grieving Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akimikono](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akimikono/gifts).



> Can be read as a ship fic or gen fic! Heavily inspired by “Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)” by Fall Out Boy. Modern AU.

Their dream was to touch the stars; to float eternally above the heartless, ephemeral world; to drift silently through the starry seas; to hold the galaxies in their hands … it was all the two boys could think of, the totality of their being. To be swallowed whole, mercilessly, unending, by the constellations that speckled the windowpanes in their bedrooms was what they craved.

Of course, the youngest of the two boys knew there would be a lot more to achieving their dreams than mere wishing. An intense workload was awaiting them, and the daunting silhouette of rejection was the shadowy figure that intimidated them every step of the way—it wasn’t necessarily that either boy lacked intelligence or will, it was more a question of following through. How many aspirations had been shelved in exchange for an easier life? It was something he refused to allow, and he’d spend the quiet moments between conversations bringing up their future.

Obito elbowed Kakashi in the side of the head, laughing an apology as he brought his arms up to put behind his head. They were laying on the grass, dew from the earlier rain shower dampening their backs, the sky bright and blurry and beautiful.

“Where do you think all those stars came from?” Obito asked, licking his dry lips as he examined the stars that speckled the black velvet sky.

Kakashi sighed. He always felt the stars looked precariously perched, threatening to fall in a spiral and land right on top of him. Some days he wished they would, and they’d envelop him, and they’d carry him far away. Or some days he wished they wouldn’t, and some days he had no opinion on the unrealistic daydreams that plagued him. When they were younger, Obito would always ask his best friend where he thought the stars came from, and they’d spend hours theorizing on their creation, or their evolution, or their spontaneity—however, as the stars circled past in wild rotations and reality crept up on them, he began to ask that question less and they theorized less.

In fact, Kakashi couldn’t quite remember the last time they had laid out underneath the sky like this. Was his memory failing him or had he deemed it unimportant? It must’ve been in the lifetime he lived before the sick sucker punch of his father’s suicide aged him and hardened him and killed him. He looked over at his dark-haired friend and contemplated whether to go sarcastic or serious. After a few seconds of silence, he finally responded with, “Dust and gas collapse due to gravity.”

Obito was still staring upwards, but even in the dark Kakashi could see him stick his tongue out. “But where do they come from, Hatake?” He moved his arm and wiped his nose, sniffling from the cold. He lazed his hand on his stomach and repeated once more, under his breath, perhaps to himself, “Where do they come from?”

Tonight was one of theories. Kakashi had many thoughts, and he had many regrets, and he had many grievances, and a small feeling in the pit of his stomach gave him the impression that Obito didn’t really want to discuss where the stars came from. But, adding to his list of thoughts, and regrets, and grievances, Kakashi never asked Obito what he wanted to talk about. He refused to ask Obito what was on his mind, opting to pretend that he couldn’t hear the implying tone in his voice. Instead, Kakashi reached over and placed a closed fist against Obito’s shoulder. “They’re cigarettes.”

Obito laughed. “You’re an idiot.”

Neither boy broke their gaze, Kakashi fixated by how the constellations glowed unnaturally in the other boy’s eyes, and Obito amused by the idea of a trillion cigarettes lighting up the night.

If Kakashi knew, he would’ve stayed out all night. If he had the ability to transform the entirety of his thoughts, and regrets, and grievances into a single moment of rectification, he would’ve chose this moment. He would’ve asked Obito what he was thinking, and he would’ve told his best friend what he was thinking, and as they gazed up at the sky, the stars would drizzle down upon them, encasing them in radiant light, carrying them somewhere far away, whispering the secrets of where they came from.

*******

There was only a few minutes to say goodbye before he was sent off to quarantine, and then outer space.

The opportunity of a lifetime had presented itself to the small handful of men and women that comprised JAXA’s astronauts; a small, single-seat spacecraft was going to be launched into orbit and they needed someone skilled in piloting to do all the necessary operations. It was risky, as JAXA had never before sent a man into space in a vehicle they had designed. Many prototypes were presented, but none had successful launches; because of this, all but two astronauts bowed out from consideration. The two that held no reservations were Kakashi Hatake and Obito Uchiha.

“This has been our dream,” Obito said over lunch, picking uninterestedly at his ramen. “Think of all the effort you’ve put into this, Kakashi. You’re the logical choice; you’re the only one here with an impeccable school record. I can’t take this from you.”

Kakashi set his book down and stared at Obito incredulously. “You aren’t taking anything from me, Obito. I’m not going.” He ignored his friend’s gaping mouth and went back to reading, barely comprehending the words in front of him. “This has been just as much your dream as it’s been mine … even more so. It’s yours for the taking. I’m not interested.”

Obito shoved his ramen out of the way and reached out, pushing his index finger against the spine of Kakashi’s book, making it bounce back and forth. Kakashi sighed and set the book down.

“Why aren’t you interested?” He hesitated. “What about the promises you made—”

Kakashi stood quickly, knocking the table with his legs, splashing broth across the table. “I thought we _promised_ not to discuss that. Besides, maybe you’ll finally find out where the stars come from—fifty yen says they’re bonfires.”

Obito grinned. “You’re an idiot. Eighty yen says they’re lightsabers.”

Afterwards, Obito had officially accepted the honor of being the first Japanese astronaut to pilot a JAXA spacecraft; other Japanese astronauts had been into space before, but this was an achievement few expected. The few reservations the boys had about the mission were quickly dulled by the excitement of actually going into space—how long had they wanted this? To touch the stars, to float above the world, to hold galaxies … 

Kakashi knew that this wasn’t his dream, at least not entirely—he had the terrible habit of imitating everyone else’s actions, and speech patterns, and goals, and dreams. When they were little, Obito would tell Kakashi how much he wanted to see the stars up close. At first, Kakashi didn’t understand why anyone would want to go up in the dark and look at little light spots. As they grew older and closer, he realized that it wasn’t necessarily other life Obito was yearning to find, and he made a verbal promise to go with him wherever he went. He had done so in the presence of his father, a few short months before the universe he vowed to touch had ripped out his soul, devouring it into shreds. No—this wasn’t Kakashi’s dream; he had given up on those.  
But if he knew what this moment signified, he would’ve done it differently—he wouldn’t have let those be his last thoughts and he would’ve changed his last words. However, Kakashi didn’t know what the conversation meant, so instead he pressed his closed fist against Obito’s shoulder and said, “If I’m lucky I won’t see you again.”

Obito smiled, eyebrows furrowed, eyes glistening. He looked as if all his insides were liquified and he was going to burst at any moment, the parts of him that always floated just beneath the surface the first ones to flow, melancholy and fondness leaking into his eyes. The corners of his mouth dropped. “Maybe.”

Kakashi hadn’t meant it; he couldn’t even comprehend why he would say such a thing. He added it to his list of grievances and regrets.

*******

It took less than an hour for problems to arise.

The communications system got jostled when the spacecraft exited the atmosphere, and it wasn’t the only thing that signaled trouble. The circuits began acting up and a panicked numbness filled Kakashi’s chest cavity.

He stood behind an irritatingly calm flight controller who stoically pressed buttons, reviewing screens full of confusing information, relaying his translations into a microphone that kept him in contact with Obito.

Finally, the man pulled his headphones off and said, “His circuit is dead.”

Kakashi tensed, random memories of his father and childhood flooding his body. “What does that mean?”

The flight controller raised a hand and began to say something, but Kakashi smacked his hand out of the way, grabbed him by the collar, and shouted, “What does that mean?!”

“Hatake, you know what it means!”

He let the man go and grabbed at his head, turning in circles, hyperventilating. He felt his face grow hot as he noticed how many people were staring at him, and his face grew cold as he noticed how apologetic they all looked, and his face grew slack as he heard the crackling voice from the man’s headphones—

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

He was suddenly surrounded, hands attached to faceless bodies grabbing at his shoulders and arms, the fear in his voice chilling his spine as he heard himself scream, “He’s my best friend, he’s my best friend, he’s my best friend …”

*******

He wasn’t coming back. The circuit was completely fried, the result of faulty wiring; it was unforeseeable, completely avoidable, and utterly devastating. A few hours of shuffling through the small craft and the problem had revealed itself to the older boy, and though there were a few silent moments of celebration, it was quickly silenced by the stark realization it wasn’t _fixable_. He hadn’t the resources nor the skills to fix the circuit, and the exploration had become an execution. Obito Uchiha was the first JAXA astronaut to go to space in a Japanese spacecraft, and he was the first JAXA astronaut to be stranded, alone, unreachable.

“How much longer do you think my comm system will work?” he asked the flight controller, his voice full of static. Obito could take care of himself, but as Kakashi leaned into the man’s headphones, he knew Obito wasn’t asking for technological reasons.

“I can’t gauge how much power you’re receiving, as there appear to be issues with that, too, but … I would say, at the rate your phone quality is deteriorating, maybe … two, three hours?”

Obito’s phone cut out and Kakashi jumped. “Where’d he go?”

The flight controller pressed a few more buttons, but they were useless and futile and stupid. Everyone here was wasting time; they cried and apologized and fumbled with controls and shrugged their shoulders and wrote it off as an incident. _Incident_. Incidents happened to expendables—Obito wasn’t expendable. He was all there was.

“Sorry—I was checking the circuits again.”

Kakashi sighed and returned to his seat. The other two men continued speaking cordially, professionally, for a few moments, discussing possible solutions, but even if they could think of something it wouldn’t work—Obito had nothing with him. If it could be fixed, it would be just outside his reach, and there’s nothing more cruel than false hope.

“Three hours, huh? God. Is Kakashi there?”

The flight controller responded, “Yeah, he’s right here. He’s been here.”

“He got out lucky this time. Can you get him something? Can I talk to him?”

Kakashi was quickly set up with his own system, and he pulled the headphones onto his head, pressing gray hair down into his eyes. He ignored this and tapped the microphone. “Obito?”

“Hatake!” he laughed. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” Kakashi scoffed. “Hell no. I never liked space anyway, you know. I only did this to prove I’m better at things than you are.”

“The one time I show up to something on time and I get stuck a few hundred kilometers above earth.” He laughed dryly.

“I’m sorry.”

“W—” he cut out again, briefly. Kakashi pressed a few buttons and Obito’s voice was quiet, still talking. “—thing. I’m glad it’s me, honestly. You think I’d let you be the one to die in space? Yeah right. You’ll never top this.”

Kakashi rubbed his thumb against the monitor, black and white lines running across the screen, a physical representation of his long line of guilt. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

He heard Obito cough. “You don’t cause the bad things that happen to you. Sometimes you have to accept that … we’re not owed anything. We don’t deserve anything, but sometimes—” he hesitated. “—sometimes we get lucky, and we’re allowed to have a good thing. We don’t get to keep the good things in life; they’re not ours. I’m fine, Kakashi. I’m … honored that I’m the one that gets to do this. It’s okay. It’s okay, you idiot.”

He repeated that over and over as Kakashi cried, unable to see, Obito’s voice filling his head as he imagined him as a little boy, pointing up at the stars. He wished he could warn him, but he was full of thoughts, and regrets, and grievances, and he couldn’t, so he apologized endlessly because it wasn’t okay. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t keep the good things. The stars were a good thing, and his father was a good thing, but Obito—Obito was _Kakashi’s_ good thing. He wanted to ask him what had been bothering him that night. He wanted to press his fist against his shoulder and feel his slow breaths. He wanted to keep him.

*******

Kakashi leaned his face against the monitor, static prickling his cheeks and nose, willing the screen to shatter, releasing Obito from the unfair prison, giving him back and letting him be where he belonged. The clock was working correctly, though he prayed it would go backwards, reversing to the previous week, the previous year, the previous life. It ticked away another few seconds. He leaned into the microphone and murmured, “Obito?”

There were a few long seconds of silence. A small click filled the headphones and he heard the familiar voice say, “Yeah?”

He closed his eyes and all he could see was the young boy—dark hair, dark eyes, light heart, light smile. He recounted all the times they laid out beneath the sky, failing to comprehend the abundance of stars that swam across the sky. He hated himself for living in the past and his innate inability to accept responsibility for his actions; he was guilty, yet no one accused him, and he couldn’t handle it. He desperately ached to go back to the last night he and Obito watched the sky. He wanted to tell Obito what he really believed the stars were composed of and how he hoped the world would be knocked off course, sending them out into the sky, drowning underneath the stormy gaze of constellations, allowing celestial bodies to crush him up into a billion pieces and blow him out into space. He wanted to ask Obito why he always seemed bothered. Instead, his voice cracked, and he decided that tonight was a night of theories and not of unspoken thoughts, or avoidable regrets, or selfish grievances, and for the first time he asked, “Where do _you_ think all the stars come from?”

He couldn’t see it, but he knew Obito was smiling. The headphone crackled and he heard the voice of his best friend teeter, hanging off the precipice of calm, a sea of realizations reaching out to grab him. “They’re _us_ , Kakashi. I knew it the first moment I truly looked up at the stars. They’re souls. People. I think it’s where we go when we die. We become stars, constellations … it’s the only thing that makes sense. All the way up here, I can see clearly; I can see my family … I can see everyone …”

Kakashi bit his lip and asked, “Can you see—can you see my dad?”

“Yes,” Obito replied, barely above a whisper, almost relieved. “I see him, and he loves you, and he doesn’t care if you break your promises.”

“Who else do you see?”

“You know … I think I see me, too. Where I’m going to be.”

“Will I be able to see you?”

This time, he could see Obito’s smile. He could see his silhouette, just like he could when they would lay out beneath the stars, shadows obscuring his features except for his eyes, illuminated by the unending universe. “Of course. We’re together, you idiot.”

The microphone crackled once more and silence filled Kakashi’s headphones. He fumbled with it, but the problem wasn’t on his side; the electronics in Obito’s spacecraft had officially gone out, which meant his oxygen was gone too, and as Kakashi collapsed to the ground he grasped the headphones against his ears and cried aloud, pretending the one light in his life wasn’t fading, and that he hadn’t made so many mistakes, and that they had stayed out all night and let the stars eat them up.


End file.
